Chronicles of Grace & Glory

Within the walls of quarantine, whether self-imposed or mandated… we dig through the treasure boxes of our past. We unearth the tender moments, the tranquil and the turbulent. This relic was penned over 4 years ago, never published… perhaps a bit raw at the time. Yet now, the edges softened and the aches relieved… may it encourage and inspire.

I’m just gonna take a dive right off the deep end…

Have you ever given so much, that it physically hurts? I mean, your insides heave with the pressures of the day and the weighty amount of responsibility you’ve shouldered… you feel as if your heart would burst. There’s this precise moment in each day, yes each day, where I feel as if I could collapse. A moment where I recite, 2 Corinthians 12:9, in some jumbled up paraphrased expression of “your Grace, God, is sufficient for me”… feeling more like a cry for help instead of an actual declaration. With an air of questioning I may loudly recite the Fruit of the Spirit while gathering up children’s toys that seem to have exploded out of their bedrooms, down the hall and into the living room.

Again, I make up my own translation… So it goes, “Oh Lord! Thank you that I am full of LOVE today. Thank you that the JOY of the Lord is my strength. You ARE my PEACE, my Prince of Peace. I thank you that I have bucket loads of Patience today. Kindness, always kindness. Goodness, because you are a GOOD God. You are so Faithful and I thank you for Faithfulness. Oh and I am so glad that I have self-control…” I may go about my day, blurting aloud at random the aforementioned fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23).

Mostly, it’s at the end of the day when the children are surprised that it is once again bedtime. Oh the ghastly looks of shock I receive when I announce its arrival. The moans and groans of defiance. The sloppy teeth brushing, face washing and toilet using. Once I have tucked and kissed and hugged until I fear my limbs will fall off, I slip into my secret hiding place…

Not really, there are no hiding places when you’re a Mom. Even trips to the bathroom are no longer a solitary event. Perhaps I flop my listless body onto the sofa, or crumple up on my bed… it’s then I feel a physical ache inside, and I dig deep. I reach for Love. You see, there are times in my life where my husband is gone more than he’s home.

Maybe you have just stumbled across my blog and are unsure of why. He’s a Preacher. More specifically an Itinerant Minister, which is one who travels and preaches. So no, I’m not a traditional Pastor’s Wife and I do not have a congregation gathered around me in support while he is gone. Yet I have a lovely team of intercessors who pray faithfully for me. With all his travel comes unwanted and sometimes unwarranted sacrifices in the name of ministry. So often there are times when I am ten days into a fifteen day exploit and I feel an ache in my heart for the love of my life to be near.

It’s a pain I am sure very few could understand. Or perhaps you all can totally relate and I have misjudged you. But whatever this emotion, it moves me to pray. I dialogue and review my case before God… feeling like a selfish child at times. Day and night counting the cost. I weep over souls, praying for miracles and searching for wisdom.

It’s a balancing act, on a tight rope of sorts. When people ask, “How do you do it all?” or the polar opposite by saying “Well, I know what your husband does but what do you do?” I take another step out… I never said I was the perfect example of a Mother or a Wife. I never labeled myself a “do-it-all” with the utmost of grace and beauty. I am not trying to be a cookie-cutter Minister’s wife. I refuse to be the fake shell of a human existence that glides in and out of green rooms. A stepford-esque pageant queen who simply smiles and waves as she greets the people.

Someone once said when speaking to Charlie, “You’re wife was built for ministry… she doesn’t get in the way of you traveling.” At first I thought it was a compliment in it’s own demented way and simply smiled at the thought of me being “built” for this sort of lifestyle. Then I mulled it over and was repulsed. First of all, I am built for ministry because God placed a call on my life at the age of 12 which led me to 4 overseas ministry trips before I even turned 18. Second, I am built for ministry because of encounters I have had with God that set my life on a destiny course which will not be de-railed. Last, I don’t “get in the way” of my husband traveling because I “am the way” my husband travels. Not, only do I run my Home but I run the Administrative Office of our 501(c)3 Ministry. I work alongside my husband, his counter-part as a co-laborer in Christ. We are a team. Though both are not always visible, we are two parts that make up a whole unit. We operate out of a spirit of Unity.

So join me on this journey, I promise it will be imperfectly glorious. Remember, this is the Diary of a Preacher’s Wife and these are the Chronicles of Grace and Glory.

YOU WERE MADE FOR MORE

When the Writer let’s her gift lie dormant for a year… she picks up the page where she once left off… she picks up the dream once again…and reminds herself;

You Were Made For More:

“There is a God whisper that calls out to your soul… stretching across time and space, reverberating in the halls of destiny, echoing your name. He calls to you. The Great One. The Creator. The One who was and is and is to come. He calls you by name. He separates the cosmos and peals back the terrestrial canopy to gaze upon your very existence. He is the one they call Emmanuel. He is the God with us. And if he is the God with us he can never be the God without us. He has forever forged his Divine Spirit in union with the spirit of humanity and declares, “You were made for more!”

You dust of the Earth that I formed and fashioned with my very own hands. You that I breathed the very atmosphere of Heaven into your lungs. You that I crowned with authority and dominion. You are forever mine. You have captured my heart, and I will not let go. 

This is how the Father, God sees you. You may not see yourself in the same exact light, but if we take a moment to remember what the Scripture says we will find that He knew us even before we were formed in our mothers wombs (Psalm 139:13, Jer. 1:5). I like a more romanticized picture when I think about how God views me and my life. I’m a dreamer. He moves Heaven and Earth to reach me, so I know he does the same for you.”


A Seer’s Prayer

I asked of the Lord,

“I want to see what you have to say. Yes, I want to SEE what you have to SAY. Open my eyes to the realm of seeing and knowing. Show me what you are doing. Remove the scales of human reasoning and lower logic to make way for the divine insight and light. Reveal the mysteries. Unlock the treasuries.”

He said, “There’s a price to pay.”

“There is a price to pay?”

“There’s a price to pay…  Though your heart on your sleeve, you’re thin skinned and bent to your knees. You seek wisdom and revelation, but know there must come gestation. You’ll then be accountable. Each word that you drop like sweet honey in tea… coaxing and coating the ear of the listener, will pervert and malnourish the sweet soul of that listener. So seek truth not just fancy.

 Stand up, stand tall, hear the Word from the Lord; then declare it so bold like the stories untold. Don’t draw back, do not hide. For if I reveal mysteries, unlock treasuries, cross universes and galaxies to unravel the truth; then let it be told.

Say it loud without fear. If you can see what I say, you can say what you see. Let not the critical spirits contempt and despise thee. Rise up, rise up high. You’ve been given the Eagle’s Eye.” 

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(photo credit pixabay)

Chase The Night

Softly He comes in like the gentle breeze on a cool summer night, and He whispers your dreams and He dares you to dance. Chase the night where He shines like the diamonds above, chase His heart while he burns bright embers of love.

Chase the wind where He rides, chase the fire in His eyes. Breath in deep. Let it fill up your chest, let it grip tight your soul. Let Him empty the rest. Let Rest. Rest there in the field underneath the Great Tree, toes in grass. Feel the grace in the stream as it washes on by. Drink Him deep.